


a murder

by Anonymous



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:22:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24810769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: The flock watches the humans on the roof.
Relationships: Dave & Rooftop Crows
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27
Collections: Anonymous





	a murder

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to Fail Fandom Anon for the prompt "100 words of: Corvids".

The little human on the roof is a quiet one, except when it is not. It crouches at the side of the low stone wall, gazing out over the city under the heat of the red-eyed sun, and babbles at them in breathless rhythms like a toneless, stuttering song. Sometimes it mimics their caws, a chick learning to speak, not quite grasping the meanings but endearing all the same.

Some days, it comes bearing crumbs and scraps, and eats alongside them. The flock learns to gather thick on the rooftop's edge in the cool mornings when the little one nestles into the not-yet-heated corner between the ledges and the tall block that hums. They watch it grow, as the weather warms and cools, and the storms pass by and the rare stranded trees green and die.

The tall human comes up sometimes, in the blazing heat of afternoon under the sun's glare, bearing blades and that awful cloth thing that smiles. It strikes at the little one too fast to see, not trading attacks but overpowering it, like a falcon, like a dog, like something hungry that knows it is stronger. It always wins, but never strikes the killing blow.

The little one is abandoned to bleed, soft and bruised, between unkind stone and sun. Time after time, it draws itself to a shaky stance, and stares at the flock for a time before limping down to the human-nest below.

In the wet and miserable full swing of summer, hotter than ever, the little one lingers too long after one of these bouts. The flock approaches to inspect, landing beside featherless limbs and fine egg-nest-worthy hair. The little one stirs only slightly, letting out a faint groan like rusting metal. It breathes, though, and pulls itself up to lean on the wall. The human's whole body trembles as it sits there and breathes.

It is still a hardly a chick, for all the summers and winters that have passed. Still small, still overpowered. They linger until it steadies enough to leave.

The next day brings scattered peanuts and a chatter of aimless words again, that move quick and light like insects. The crows of the flock brand the tall one's face into their minds, and spread the word.

***

Your name is Dirk "Bro" Strider, and it seems every crow in the city holds a personal vendetta against you today. You have been dive-bombed no less than six times on your way to work, had your lunch stolen by two opportunistic cawing bastards while your back was turned, and have been forced to reschedule a business consultation for your newest smuppety endeavors thanks to a feathery asshole flying off with a goddamn thumbdrive. You already miss being home, where it's socially acceptable to whip out a katana and decapitate things that inconvenience you, but you are regrettably an adult in a public space right now, or at least required to pretend as much.

The newest airborne piece of hellspawn lands on the cafe table in front of you. "Caw," it says, looking smug.

Your ninja reflexes tell you you're being dive-bombed again, but it's not enough to save your backup hat. Seems like you're walking home bare-headed. Fucking crows.

When you reach the apartment building, the rooftop is already a writhing mass of black feathers. The noise is deafening, every rustle of wings, every scrape of skinny claws, every harsh cry. Their beady eyes all focus on the same target.

You don't know what you expected.

**Author's Note:**

> minor edit: texas summers are humid, and i am A Fool


End file.
